


Letting You In

by generalsleepy



Category: The Lair (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, Episode: s02e04, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:46:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23163463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/generalsleepy/pseuds/generalsleepy
Summary: An alternate ending to the scene where Trout finds Ian bathtub, because the show somehow completely whiffed it, and didn't have the Sheriff and Ian end up together.
Relationships: Ian/Sheriff Trout
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	Letting You In

Matt Trout had expected that even nearly blind he’d have a better instinctive grasp of the layout of his house. When it came down to it, the first few days back from the hospital he’d been groping around in a way that had to look ridiculous. Trying to make a cup of coffee had been a comedy of errors, in which he ended up opening every drawer and cabinet in the kitchen before finding all the materials he needed. Cooking--hell, making a sandwich--was out of the question, so he ended up exclusively ordering out once he finished the leftovers in his fridge.

Everything from getting dressed to taking a shower to working out was somewhere between a chore and a struggle. He had trouble just navigating from one room to another, convinced stairs started a few feet further than they did and nearly falling or banging his shoulders into doorways he’d misjudged the proportions of or taking a full five minutes to find the door to his backyard. There was one fucking chair in his living room that he’d had no trouble avoiding when he could see, but now seemed to trip over without fucking fail.

Then Ian showed up. He cooked Trout’s meals, did his laundry, ran errands. He had even walked Trout through his own house, until he had a more solid grasp of the layout. Trout started to think it might have been the frustration itself that had literally tripped him up.

“I don’t mind,” Ian had said as he was helping Trout out the back door and to one of the pool chairs. “I mean, you caught me breaking into your house and stealing your food, and you gave me a job.”

“You know,” he’d said as he stretched out on the chair, “as long as you’re bringing that up, I’m obligated to ask you again what happened.”

There had been a long stretch of silence. “Sheriff…” His voice had been hesitant, almost pained. “I wish I… I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Matt.”

Another pause. “Matt. I’m sorry.”

“Something my father used to say: a trust you have to earn will always be more valuable than a trust you’re just given.” He’d been only guessing when he put out his hand, but it had successfully landed on Ian’s arm. “When you’re ready, I’ll be there, Ian.”

“Thank you.”

It didn’t make any sense, that with the job he had and the life he’d lived he himself had placed so much trust in a man he barely knew, who he’d never even seen properly. Hell, “barely knew” was stretching it. All he knew was Ian’s name and the few other details that would slip out here and there. Any time conversation turned to something more really meaningful--his family or what brought him to the island--Ian would deflect. As a professional investigator, having this mystery of a person constantly with him should have been intolerable.

But, somehow it wasn’t. Because Ian wasn’t some suspect or random citizen. He was… Trout wasn’t sure what Ian was to him, but for now he was willing to go along with whatever instinct it was that had led him to take Ian in in the first place.

Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but he had a feeling that sooner or later Ian would give him that trust.

* * *

He couldn’t _just_ have a serial killer loose in his town. No, instead, Trout had the aftermath of the Rivers case to deal with, Etherton constantly making a nuisance of himself, cadavers sauntering out of the morgue like it was a goddamn rest stop, the investigation of The Lair at a standstill, and now bodies showing up that didn’t even seem to be related to the John Doe Murders. 

Apparently there was a wild animal out there tearing random motorists to shreds, and that didn’t feel like the most pressing issue on his plate. All of that, and with his vision still hazy there was next to nothing he could do to help.

Deputy Miller said that he should enjoy his well-earned vacation. Trout resisted the urge to smack him.

He entered his house with nearly as much confidence as if he could actually see where he was going. 

“Ian?” he called out once he was inside. He’d tried not to be worried about his friend throughout the day. It wasn’t like Ian to not be there in the morning, but Trout also wasn’t in charge of his movements. Still, he was fervently hoping that Ian would be back by then.

“Ian, you here?” He paused when he heard the sound of splashing. Thankfully, it was only a few easy-to-navigate steps to the bathroom. When he opened the door, the little splashing sounds were clearer, obviously from someone taking a bath. Internally, he sighed in relief.

“I couldn’t find you this morning, man,” he said. “I had to take a taxi into town to see my doctor.” He rambled about the appointment while he peeled off the bandages on his eyes.

The tub and wall ran together, broken by the blurry shape that he assumed was Ian. It looked like he was curled up on himself, rather than laying down relaxing. The black of his hair stood out most clearly.

“So, where were you this morning, man?” he asked, getting to the point. 

Silence. Even the water was still, as Ian was apparently frozen in place.

“What’s the matter? Are you okay?” Concern and frustration roiled inside of him. He knew that something was the matter. He knew that Ian was holding back something important, and he knew that Ian deep down wanted to let it out. He knelt beside the tub, smelling soap and something else he couldn’t quite place. “What’s wrong, Ian?” When he put a hand on Ian’s back, the man flinched slightly. “Are you sick?”

“I’m…” Ian’s voice cracked. “I’m alright.”

“You don’t sound alright.”

“I’m sorry you had to take a taxi. I should have been there. I’m sorry.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, Ian. I don’t mind having to do some things by myself. I’m worried about you. You’re my friend, and you can say whatever you want, but I know that something is going on with you.”

The hand that wasn’t on Ian’s back landed on a washcloth. He didn’t pause to overthink before picking it up and dipping it in the water. Careful not to move too suddenly, he started rubbing Ian’s back with the washcloth. “Ian, please, let me in.”

“I can’t, Matt.” His voice was tense, with a note of something like desperation. 

“Yes, you can. Look, Ian, I don’t want to pressure you. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or like you owe me, but I can tell that something is wrong. Let me help you, Ian.”

Trout felt him shrink into himself. “No one can help me.”

“Don’t say that. Look, if I’ve learned anything from these past few weeks, it’s to not discount anything out of hand. You can tell me anything, Ian. Trust me here.” 

Ian let out a huff of air something like a laugh. “Not this.”

“Try me.” He moved the washcloth to the nape of Ian’s neck and spread his fingers. His muscles were painfully tense.

“I’m a monster,” Ian said in a shaky voice. “I’m disgusting.”

“Ian…”

“I’m putting all of you in danger, just because I’m stupid and selfish.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I shouldn’t have said anything.” Ian started to move, but let Trout gently keep him in place.

“Ian, calm down.” Trout hesitated, then pulled Ian into a loose hug. For a moment, Ian tensed, but then seemed to relax slightly. “You can trust me. It’s going to be alright. Just… let me in.”

“I came here, because I was running from something,” Ian said in a soft voice. “Something I’ve been running from for years. I planned to keep running, but then you found me, and I… I don’t know. I didn’t want to. I wanted to pretend for a while that I didn’t have to.” He pressed his damp forehead into Trout’s shoulder as he leaned into the embrace.

“What are you running from?”

He paused, then took a deep breath. “Matt, do you believe in monsters?”

“I believe in people who do horrible things to other people.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. I mean, things beyond just people. Monsters.”

He mulled over his answer, just rubbing Ian’s back. He wished that he could answer ‘no,’ just out of hand, without a thought. He couldn’t though. Not after those hazy memories from The Lair, the sight of that corpse walking, the desperation in Etherton’s eyes when he begged Trout to understand. “I don’t… I don’t know. Is that what you’re running from?”

“Kind of.” He drew away from Trout to look him in the eye. Trout wished that he could make out more than the vaguest outlines of Ian’s face. “Do you believe me?”

“To be honest, I don’t know if I have any idea what’s going on, but I don’t think that you’re lying. There’s something that makes me want to believe you.”

Ian audibly swallowed. “Thank you,” he said, the words seeming to catch in his throat. “Thank you, Matt.”

It wasn’t clear who moved first. Without a second thought, they were kissing. Ian freed a soaking wet hand to cup Trout’s cheek. Somehow, with his eyes shut, but their lips pressed together, Trout had a clearer image of Ian’s face than he had before.

The kiss deepened, as Trout buried his fingers in Ian’s damp hair. He wasn’t sure how long it was before they broke apart. They were still close enough Trout could feel Ian’s breath on his lips.

“The water’s getting cold,” Trout said. “Let’s get you out of here.”

He found Ian’s hands as he stood up, but it was still Ian doing most of the work of getting himself out of the tub. He groped in the direction he remembered the towel rack being and managed to find it. With help, he wrapped the towel around Ian’s shoulders. He softly rubbed Ian’s skin, then moved to dry his hair.

Before he could do much, Ian kissed him again. Trout let Ian hold the towel, while he pulled him close to his chest. He’d been so focused until this point on just getting Ian to open up, that he hadn't really thought about the fact that the other man was naked. Now, feeling the warm body against his, it was hard to ignore.

“I…” Ian breathed once they parted. “I’m... “ He trailed off.

“Shh.” Trout kissed his forehead. “It’s okay. Just let me take care of you.”

Ian slumped against him. Trout had the feeling that it had been a long time since Ian had had anyone to take care of him.

“That said, you’re going to have to help me find the bedroom. Those stairs are still a pain in the ass.” 

Ian laughed, the same soft, sweet sound as before. 

He didn’t bother draining the tub or turning off the light as they left. They could take care of that later. For now, everything except the two of them could wait.

Once they were through the door, Trout was able to lead them to the bed. Ian always made the bed perfectly, hospital corners and all, so he had to tug the covers down before they could slip under them.

He didn’t care that Ian was still mostly soaking wet. The moment their heads touched the pillows they were kissing again, the towel falling away. His hand roamed over Ian’s smooth chest, before landing on a patch of rough, raised skin that felt like old, deep scar tissue. 

Ian sucked in a breath, but didn’t move away. Trout didn’t move either, only stretching his palm over the scars. His _it’s okay_ , was silent, but clear. _I don’t care. You don’t have to tell me now._ His hand trailed down to Ian’s slim waist, as he moved the kiss to the hollow of his throat.

Ian had already told him so much--more, Trout thought, than he had told anyone. Trout wouldn’t push him any further today, but he also didn’t doubt Ian would tell him about the scars eventually. That wall between them had crumbled, or at least a stone had fallen out of place. For now, that was enough. For now, it was a beginning, and Trout was ready to follow wherever it would lead. 


End file.
